A/N: HERE IT IS, MY FRIENDS. WHAT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING A VERY LONG TIME FOR. SORRY IT TOOK ME 13 MONTHS.

The long-awaited sequel of To Be A King is finally coming to fruition. It is not finished yet, maybe about half-written at this point, but I have a scene-by-scene breakdown all the way to the end so there's no chance of hardcore writers block this time. Still, I only intend to upload chapters maybe once a week at first so that I have a chance to finish the story before I catch up with myself. Once the whole story is completed, I'll probably speed up the uploads.

I just really wanted to start posting. You guys have been waiting far too long. Obviously, this is a WIP and a rough draft. If I reach the end and am not satisfied with the final product, then there will be revisions and a full re-upload like there was with TBAK, but idk yet if that will be necessary.

For now, REVIEW. You guys know that reviews give me life. They will get me through my days, carry me over any writing slumps, and ensure I have the motivation to finish this in a timely manner. 3

"Arthur, are you sure this is a good idea?"

It wasn't the first time Merlin had asked that question. He tapped a quill against the tabletop, leaving splotches of black ink on the wood, sounding a nervous rhythm that made Arthur reach over and tug the offending writing instrument out of his hand and toss it aside.

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur replied yet again. "Now are you going to help me get armoured or not? I've got knights' training in half an hour."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Not your servant anymore," he said, as if Arthur really needed reminding. He got to his feet to fetch Arthur's armour anyway, laying the pieces out on Arthur's desk in the proper order as he had always done. Arthur smirked at him, obnoxiously smug as usual, and held out his arms to be dressed.

"Really, though, this summit?" Merlin said, fussing with a buckle on the breastplate. "It just reeks of trouble. How can it possibly be a good idea for you to have all the powerful people with reason to hate you in one room at the same time? It's an assassination waiting to happen!"

"Merlin, you came here to discuss the regulation of luck charms, not to critique my political stratagem."

"Yeah, well, I didn't come here intending to dress you either, but here I am," Merlin countered wryly, fastening the pauldron on.

Arthur snorted.

"Look, I know you're just concerned for my safety," he said, "and I understand why you're so worried. Really, I do. But I have to face them some time." He shrugged. "Everything that went down in the last few months is…scandalous, to say the very least. All of your numerous secrets being brought forth into open air has caused a lot of ruffled feathers among the people you fooled, and many of them don't believe that I'm among their number."

Merlin frowned, focusing on a particularly stubborn buckle that didn't want to sit right rather than looking at Arthur.

"They think I used you, Merlin," Arthur said bluntly. "They think I knowingly—and treasonously—kept a pet sorcerer at my side while insisting that no one else be allowed the use of magic, all to make absolutely certain that Camelot had an advantage over all the other kingdoms in the land. Now, I don't know exactly what they think of your newfound lineage at this point, but we're safe to assume they won't think the best of us on that front either. So we need to talk to them, set the record straight, and convince them of our good intentions."

"That's exactly it, though, Arthur," Merlin said. "We need talk to them. We do, the both of us together. Tell me again why I'm not invited to this summit?"

Arthur sighed. "You make them nervous, Merlin."

Merlin scoffed.

"You do," Arthur insisted, smiling a bit at the very thought of Merlin intimidating anyone, even though he had seen enough of Merlin's power by now to know that any wariness was perfectly warranted. "You're a variable that none of them predicted. They're not prepared for you and don't know how to handle the situation you present.

"I, on the other hand, am a known quantity," he continued with a gesture to his person that had Merlin chasing after the vambrace he was trying to fasten on with a grumble of frustration. "They've had dealings with me before; they know how I operate and what motivates me. Even if they think me guilty of duplicitous and underhanded actions, they're still willing to give me the benefit of the doubt and at least hear what I have to say."

"I really don't think Odin is the type to give anyone the benefit of the doubt," Merlin said. "Especially not you. Judging by, you know, the decade-long blood feud you've got going on. And Alined looks for any excuse to create war and cause strife. You know that."

"Merlin—"

"And Sarrum of Amata? Really, Arthur? That man is bloodthirsty and cruel, and also one of the most notorious advocates for destroying magic in all the land. Even your father steered clear of him! He's that ruthless! He's known for assassinating his allies and putting their heads on spikes. And you want to invite him into your kingdom—the kingdom where you are currently in the process of legalizing the magic that he hates—without me there to protect you?"

"Merlin," Arthur said, his exasperation finally winning out. "Believe it or not, I don't actually need you hovering over my shoulder every hour of every day. I did manage to survive for nineteen years before you showed up."

"Maybe, but that was before everyone and their mother decided to paint a big red circle on your back and use you for target practice."

"Merlin, I can't have you there," Arthur said definitively. "Your presence will only put them all on the defensive and then they'll be damn near impossible to win over."

The last buckle clicked into place and Arthur brushed Merlin's fretful hands away so he could turn and face him properly.

"Eventually you will have to plead your case with them as well," he said, "but you need to let me have my shot at it first or nothing will ever be resolved and Albion will never be peaceful and united as we wish it to be."

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on his tongue to keep from sounding even more like a mother hen than he already did.

"Albion will never be peaceful and united if you're dead," he shot back without much hope, knowing the argument was already lost.

"I've got dozens of knights, Merlin. Maybe try letting them do their jobs for once. And besides," he added, picking up his sword and twirling it, the blade slicing through the air with a whistle, "I'm not exactly helpless myself, you know."

It was Merlin's turn to smirk. He opened his mouth, fully intending to say something about the numerous instances in which Merlin had been needed to swoop in and save his arse from one danger or another, but Arthur saw his intent written all over his face.

"Oh, don't you have a kingdom of your own to run?" he asked waspishly.

Merlin pursed his lips and scratched at his chin, still unused to the thick growth of hair there.

Arthur had laughed out loud when Merlin had first announced his intention to grow a beard, but he'd stopped laughing and started pouting instead when he realized that Merlin was much better at growing a beard than he had ever been. Now, a month past his resolution, he kept it full and neatly trimmed, and he hadn't had a single person refer to him as "boy" in all that time.

"Technically," Merlin said with a shrug. "But, er…not right now."

"What do you mean, not right now?" Arthur asked, baffled. "Kingship isn't a transitory position."

Merlin threw himself down in Arthur's favorite chair with a huff. "Ellison and Gerund kicked me out," he admitted. "Of my own kingdom! Can you believe that? Everything's calm now, so they say I'm not allowed to come back until I've visited my mother."

Arthur had himself a good laugh over that. Merlin considered making his trousers fall down in payback, but he figured that such petty revenge was probably beneath his dignity now that he was a king.

"Really, Merlin?" Arthur asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "It's been almost another two months and you still haven't talked to her? That poor woman."

"I've been busy!"

"Not as busy as you were before the war with Morgana came to a head," Arthur argued. "Your kingdom is at peace, your cousin is proving to be an efficient and reliable regent for when you're otherwise occupied, and traveling long distances takes approximately two seconds for you. What's preventing you from making the trip out there?"

"I just don't want to leave Carthis before I've got an answer from Kilgharrah," Merlin said.

Arthur's expression softened. "He still hasn't figured out what to do about Aithusa?"

"No," Merlin said, picking up the discarded quill again, turning it over and over in his fingers. "Dragons are creatures of magic themselves, so using magic to affect them is practically impossible. There's really nothing to be done to heal scars and old injuries even on humans, so doing so on dragons is probably a lost cause, even for me."

"But you think a god's power could manage it?"

Arthur took the quill from him again. This time Merlin used magic to get it back, whacking Arthur round the head with it for good measure. Arthur flicked his ear, and Merlin graciously refrained from retaliating and letting the whole thing devolve into another juvenile shoving match.

"All creatures of magic are born of the Old Religion," Merlin explained, "myself included. If there's anything that could alter a dragon on a fundamental level, it would be a deity whose power stems from the same source. The problem is finding one that's willing to aid me in this endeavor. Gods and goddesses aren't known for hearing the pleas of men."

"Well, if there's anyone they would listen to, it's you," Arthur said in his best attempt at encouraging. "The Great Dragon will figure something out soon and you'll have everything resolved in no time."

Merlin gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, sure. I just hate seeing him like this in the meantime."

"How is he?"

"It's hard to tell since he can't speak, but it's obviously that some of his old wounds still pain him," Merlin said. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, shoving down the wave of guilt that always threatened to overwhelm him when he thought of the ordeal he had allowed his little dragon to suffer. "He is looking healthier though," he added, "now that he's being properly taken care of."

"That's good," Arthur said with a smile. Arthur had taken a liking to Aithusa when he'd visited Carthis. Whenever he had had free time in between the official meetings with the royal council and the unofficial tours of the kingdom Merlin had insisted on taking him and Gwen on, he had spent it in the Roost, coaxing the skittish creature into eating cutlets from his hand.

"I could take you back for a visit, if you want to see him," Merlin offered in the most innocent of tones.

Arthur leveled him with a very unimpressed look. "I don't think so, Merlin. Ellison had the right of it. You—" He pointed a finger at Merlin. "—are going to Ealdor if I have to escort you there myself."

"You've got a summit meeting in two days; you don't have time to escort me anywhere," Merlin grumbled.

"Exactly, and I will be very cross if I have to take the time out of my very busy schedule to handhold you and your mother and make you talk to each other. So off you go. Right now, go on. I've got things to do. " Arthur made shooing motions in his direction. When Merlin didn't immediately hop to obey, he dragged Merlin bodily from the chair and gave him a push toward the door.

"But I have to find Mordred and Cecily," Merlin protested. "Who knows where they've gotten off to? Probably off snogging in an alcove somewhere. And Raime! Raime's probably still getting supplies. Or lost. He gets lost easily. It may be days before we find him. I once got trapped in the tunnels under the walls and couldn't find my way out for hours—"

"I guarantee you they will all be in the stables, ready and waiting for you to get your arse moving."

With that, Arthur promptly shoved Merlin out the door and shut it behind him. Merlin stared at the door, marveling at the lengths Arthur would go to just to get one up on him; the things Arthur had to do weren't even in his room and he'd just locked himself in so that Merlin couldn't procrastinate anymore.

Merlin had almost convinced himself to do as he was told when Arthur abruptly appeared in the doorway again.

"Speaking of Mordred, do you really need him on this trip?" he asked.

Merlin frowned. "Um. I supposed not."

"Do you think I could borrow him for a few days?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow and said, "For what exactly?"

"For use as a liaison," Arthur said, leaning against the doorframe. "He did well during the battle preparations making sure Gerund and Leon were on the same page. The other monarchs are bound to have questions about you and yours, so I could compile a list of questions every night that Mordred could take back to Carthis to get answers for."

"Oh, so Mordred can meet the other monarchs and I can't?" Merlin asked, just for clarification purposes and not in the least because he was feeling distinctly petulant over being left out.

"Merlin, the last time you saw Lord Bayard you accused him of treason. And you juggled in Queen Annis's court as a fool. Give them some time to get used to the idea of you being a royal dragon-riding warlock of legend and prophecy."

Merlin rolled his eyes again and said, "Fine. It's not as if I really need his protection anyway. Lady Cecily will be more than enough. Though I'm sure she and Mordred will lament being parted," he added with a rather suggestive grin.

Arthur chuckled. "I think the young lovers can handle a few days apart," he said. "Send Mordred to the training grounds when you head out, will you?"

"Yeah, alright."

This time when Arthur closed the door, it stayed closed. Merlin shook his head at it, knowing that Arthur was just waiting to hear him leave before heading out to training. But now Merlin had no recourse left to him. He would have to face his mother sometime and it seemed everyone was conspiring to make sure that time was now. He gave himself a shake and headed for the stables.

She laughed as she ran, the high grasses tickling her legs as she passed through them. The wind blew her hair into her eyes, but she knew these woods well enough that it didn't hinder her flight. A figure brushed past her, nearly knocking her off her stride. A head of dark hair bobbed through the trees in front of her, the distance between them growing as Mordred made use of his longer legs.

"Hey! Wait for me!" she cried, pushing herself harder.

Mordred looked back and smiled at her, slowing his stride to let her catch up. She didn't stop when she reached him though. Instead she leapt at him, tackling him to the ground. He shouted in surprise. They rolled as they hit the ground, not caring in the least about the grass stains that would cover their clothes when they were finished, and she finally managed to pin him down.

"There," she said conclusively. "I won."

"Are you sure about that?" Mordred asked.

She frowned down at him. Really, she should've seen it coming, but she still managed to be surprised when she was knocked back by nothing but air. Then Mordred was straddling her legs, holding her wrists down and looking terribly smug about it.

"That's cheating!" she said.

"Not when you have magic too," Mordred countered. "You could do the same thing to me."

"You know my magic's not that strong. Not like yours," she said, trying not to sound as jealous as she was. "You could do anything in the world, Mordred. I can barely start a fire, and that's if I concentrate real hard."

"Oh, you could do more than that," he said reassuringly. "You're just too young. You'll grow into your powers when you're older. That's what the elders say, at least."

She pushed Mordred off her so she could sit up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "But you already have yours," she said. "You're even younger than I am, and you're already stronger than half the adults in the camp. If you haven't even grown into your powers yet, then you'll be one of the strongest ever!"

"I don't know about that," Mordred said, sitting back on his heels and biting his lip.

"Really, Mordred," she insisted. "You could be the best if you tried."

"I do try!"

"I guess." She ripped a handful of grass blades out of the earth and sprinkled them around her, then reached for a new handful. "You could probably try harder though."

She looked up to see Mordred frowning at her, but he smiled when he saw her looking.

"Come on," he said. "We should get back before your mum comes looking for us."

She let him pull her to her feet again and they took off running toward home.